


Your Princess is in Another Castle

by Luna_Moon22



Category: Dr. STONE (Anime), Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Angst, Captivity, Gen is tied up, Hallucinations, Happy Valentine's Day!, Heavy Angst, Hyouga cuts Gen up a little, I bring y'all some torture, Implied/Referenced Torture, Isolation, Knives, M/M, Self-Worth Issues, Sengen angst is my jam, Sleep Deprivation, Sounds fun but this is gonna be Fun for no one but me :), Starvation, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, all i know how to write is angst, no, will Suzu ever learn to write things that are not angst?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22715422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Moon22/pseuds/Luna_Moon22
Summary: How long does it take for isolation to break one who thrives off of other people?
Relationships: Asagiri Gen & Hyouga, Asagiri Gen & Ishigami Senkuu, Asagiri Gen/Ishigami Senkuu
Comments: 82
Kudos: 255





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh, dear Hyouga-chan, how I truly thought I would never have to suffer the agony of gazing upon your face again.” Gen throws his head back with a bright smirk and a wave of his bound fingers. “And yet here we are, trapped in,” He looks around, soft gray eyes scanning blank walls, looking for some indication of where exactly he is. “…this place.” He finishes with a soft frown, “And I’m forced, once again, to gaze upon your features!” He tilts his head back as far as bound wrists will allow, as if swooning, “I don’t know if I can take such torture, Hyouga-chan! What do you want?? I’ll give you whatever you like!”

“Unfortunately, Gen-kun,” There’s a sing-song quality to the voice that comes from beneath the mask and Gen catches the look of a smile on the man’s eyes. “What I want from you is not something so easily given. It requires time, far more time than I assume you’re ‘willing’ to spend with me – not that it truly matters. Despite what you say, I assume you’re fully aware of the nature of your situation, yes?” Hyouga cocks his head to one side with no visible change to his expression. “They don’t call you a _mentalist_ for nothing.”

“Hmmm.” Gen hums, head cocking to one side in a clear imitation of Hyouga’s movement. “Whatever could you mean, Hyouga-chan? I already said I’ve given in to you. Of course I am aware of my situation. I’m simply curious as to why I’m in it~”

“That’s something for me to know.” Hyouga turns. Turns away and starts towards what Gen thinks is the entrance – he can’t be certain. The room is too dark for him to be certain – “And you to learn as we spend a bit of _quality time together_ , Gen-kun.”

“Ahh, Hyouga-chan! I’m so excited!” He coos in mockery, leaning his head back as far as it can go and ignoring the start of the ache in his back. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, you know~ I’m quite excited to find out what we’ll be doing~”

Hyouga doesn’t respond to his clear attempt at a taunt. Hyouga doesn’t say another word as he steps forward and out of what Gen can only assume is a hut. It must be. Otherwise the walls wouldn’t look so clean and there wouldn’t be this odd pole running through the exact middle of the room. Yet the place is dark. Quiet. Lonely and silent and _dark_ (wait, he already made note of that–), though that may have something to do with the fabric over his eyes. Just sheer enough for him to make out his surroundings, and just opaque enough to confuse them. The perfect middle ground.

Gen thinks he should have been more careful.

Gen thinks he should have known better.

  
Gen thinks he should have noticed someone sneaking up on him in the middle of the woods, when he had slipped away to gather deadly nightshades and red berries for his ever-present stock of flowers and to replace the packs of blood that were never not tucked into his clothing. He thinks he’s still wearing them, unless Hyouga (or whoever had snatched him, he doesn’t truly remember since the first indication he had that he was anything less than completely alone was the snapping of a branch and the feeling of the blunt end of a weapon being brought down on the back of his head) had noticed and taken the time to remove them before stuffing him into that sack he woke up in, tossed over someone’s shoulder as if he were a pound of vegetables being lugged home from the supermarket.

Gen thinks he really ought to stop calling himself a mentalist, if he allowed himself to be caught so easily. Or perhaps he should simply accept a downgrade from ‘world’s greatest mentalist’ to ‘Japan’s greatest mentalist’, especially if he can’t figure out why he’s here – what Hyouga wants from him– before the masked man decides that it’s time to start on _getting it._

He leans forward, brings his face as close to his hands, firmly secured to the pole in the center of the room, as he can get. He isn’t sure what he’s really trying to accomplish by running his fingers over the almost sheer fabric of the blindfold. Perhaps he’s trying to get a feel for it. Perhaps he’s simply curious about just how tight around his eyes it really is. Perhaps feeling something under his fingers is simply reassuring to his senses and, unfortunately, there isn’t much else that he can get close enough to his fingers for it to work.

Now, however, with back hunched and fingers trembling to run across the scratchy fabric, Gen feels the weight of the situation come to settle on top of him. The gravitas is so heavy that Gen almost fears his back will break beneath it.

He weighs the downsides.

He was taken while he was alone. In the middle of the woods. In the middle of the day. With no warning from anyone that anything was out of the ordinary. The first person who would likely notice (or had noticed, depending on how long it had been, something which he doesn’t think it’s possible for him to be sure of) was Senkuu. Of course it would be Senkuu. Even if he waved off Gen’s disappearing during the day, the scientist would notice when he didn’t slip under covers beside him and curl right into the scientist’s hold late that night. Senkuu would notice the lack of a particularly cuddly stage magician and start a search until they found him, and he would be free before he even realized that he had been taken in the first place.

Right?

God, he misses Senkuu already.

He doesn’t even know how long he’s been gone and he already misses the scientist more than he’s ever missed the modern world.

He’s tied down, is another of the many downsides he’s coming to recognize in this situation. He’s tied to a pole in the center of a room with a crude and rather ineffective blindfold over his eyes and no mobility to speak of. In fact, he would say that the ropes around his wrists are tied far too tight. He can feel the edges of the binds digging into his sensitive skin, and he does his best to simply ignore it. There’s no gag in his mouth, which he finds to be a relief (he is a smooth talker, after all, what is a smooth talker if they can’t talk?), but there’s no one in the room for him _to_ smooth-talk. He doesn’t have his knife – he hadn’t thought it necessary to bring it on a brief trip into the woods for flower-gathering. He hadn’t been expecting that this is how his day would go – and overall he’s really thinking about just how screwed he is in this situation.

Tsukasa taking him would be one thing. First of all, he doesn’t think Tsukasa Shishio would even resort to these kinds of underhanded tactics. If Tsukasa wanted a hostage, one would be taken in the middle of the fight. No one would be knocked out mere meters from their home, stuffed into a sack, and carried for some amount of time that Gen can’t be certain of. A knife would be brought to that person’s throat while Tsukasa shouted his threat loud enough that the whole battlefield would come to a stop.

Hyouga is not Tsukasa.

Gen, admittedly, doesn’t know much about Hyouga beyond his monstrous strength (inferior only to Tsukasa himself, Hyouga had said that upon waking up and Tsukasa had agreed), his always cool and calm demeanor, and apparently that the man was not above kidnapping. He doesn’t think he should be surprised, of course, since Hyouga had been willing to chase a child up a mountain with the intent to capture her as well, but somehow he had never been expecting the blunt end of a club to come down on his head.

How careless of him.

He breathes a heavy sigh. His shoulders are starting to ache from the continued awkward position of his wrists, and his lips drag themselves into a deep frown.

What a precarious situation.

He closes his eyes.

And he hopes Senkuu doesn’t take too long to notice that he’s gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Gen doesn’t remember the last time sleep came to save him from the hut that’s empty except for the pole square in the middle.

He doesn’t remember the last time his eyes snapped shut for longer than maybe five minutes before he gives up, lets his eyes pull themselves open, and elects to simply stare at the rope keeping him stuck here. In this excruciatingly uncomfortable position – he thinks his shoulders went numb long ago, long enough to have him struggling to shift them, if only to get some feeling back – sleep would already be next to impossible. But the added bonus of the ever-present light (someone must come to change it, but he’s never seen anyone do so, and he wonders if he really is sleeping and simply isn’t aware of it, or if he’s going crazy) emanating from the torch, just beside what he thinks is the entrance, just makes his eyes ever more aware and his mind far too present.

He still doesn’t know how long he’s been here, either. The first night has come and gone, he’s certain of that (but is he really? Is there even a way for him to be certain of that? Isn’t it more than possible that his mind is simply playing tricks on him and in reality he’s been here all of one hour), but the curtain only falls open to reveal a night sky when the pink-clad Homura makes her occasional appearance.

She never stays long, and she never says a single word to him. No matter what he might say, how he may taunt her about Hyouga’s appearance, personality, lack of class, anything, no matter what he says about her herself or about escaping, no matter what deals and promises he may offer, she never opens her lips. Never speaks a single word, and Gen is certain it’s intentional. While the sleep deprivation has obvious reasoning behind it – obvious enough to soothe Gen’s mind at least a little bit – Homura’s lack of response is enough to give him fear.

The desperation he feels, sinking into his chest every time he lets a promise slip past his tongue, is more than enough to have him fearing what might come next.

Homura never stays long. She comes in bearing a pouch of water and a small tray of food every time, without fail. She always shows up just as his throat is beginning to ache and his stomach is beginning to growl. She doesn’t say a word, she simply sets it down, pours just enough water down his throat to quench his thirst (but not enough for it to disappear completely, they seem to be very careful about that) and feeds him just enough to silence the growling of his stomach (but not the pull of hunger, and he’s sure it’s intentional) and once her tray is empty and pouch dry, she leaves once again without a word. And Gen is left alone again.

Gen isn’t skilled enough to count the seconds. He knows that he would lose track. Wouldn’t be able to add them and multiply them and divide them the way Senkuu did for so long. He knows it would only serve to confuse him more and more. Instead he decides to count Homura’s appearances under the assumption – a likely one, given that the sky is always dark when the curtain is pulled back – that she pays him a visit once a day.

If his assumption is correct, then he’s been here for 9 days.

He hopes his assumption isn’t correct.

_If he’s been here for 9 days, does that mean that no one has noticed him gone?_

_If he’s been here for 9 days, does that mean that no one is coming to get him?_

_If he’s been here for 9 days, is there any hope of escaping?_

_If he’s been here for 9 days, is he going to die here?_

He doesn’t know where the last thought comes from. No one has laid a hand on him, yet he has a distinct, sinking feeling of _dread_ in the pit of his stomach that this, the isolation and hunger and thirst and sleep deprivation, is only the appetizer while Hyouga prepares a much _tastier_ main course.

He misses Senkuu.

He misses Senkuu so much that he thinks it’ll kill him, eventually.

He closes his eyes and tries to remember. Tries to feel the fingers of the scientist, rough and calloused and oh-so- _soft_ , running through his hair and across his face. He tries to feel the way Senkuu wraps an arm around his waist at any given moment, at complete random, and usually only has a soft blush to contribute when Gen teases him about it. He tries to see Senkuu’s blush, and the image brings him a soft smile.

He misses it.

He misses the banter, the closeness, the short looks that he can’t remember as anything but _love_ and _adoration._

And he wonders, briefly, why he’s still here when Senkuu looks at him like there’s no one more precious in the whole world.

He hates himself for wondering it.

He hates himself for wondering if it was all a lie.

“Senkuu-chan.” His head falls to the left, eyelids fluttering in some attempt to fight off exhaustion. There’s no point to it, anyway, he won’t be able to get himself to sleep even if he lets himself succumb to it. “…I do hope you’ll hurry up. Your Princess Peach is in another castle! Time to come to the rescue!” He smirks to himself and wishes there was another voice to call out to him.

There isn’t.

And the feeling of deep desperation in his chest only grows worse.


	3. Chapter 3

He’s counted up to 12 visits from Homura before he’s met with a different face.

“Ah, Hyouga-chan~!” He chirps, and he’s sure that the man is going to ignore him, just as his right hand has been doing for what he thinks is almost two weeks now – maybe someone will finally tell him how long he’s been away from the Kingdom of Science. If he knows how long it’s been, it’s much easier to calibrate how much he should be fearing the fact that there’s been no sign of them, no sign of _anyone_ , and perhaps it will calm the racing of his heart. Perhaps it can relax the trembling of his fingers and the closing of his throat. “It’s been quite a while, I suppose. Though I can’t quite be certain of _how_ long it’s been since I was last _blessed_ with a view of your features!”

“Hmmm.” Hyouga steps closer, and Gen knows that his own eyes are about half-way closed. His lids feel heavier than they ever have before and he desperately, _desperately_ , wants the ropes off his wrists. His hands have long since numbed and he can barely move his fingers at this point. He’s certain – more than certain – that there are marks on his wrists from the ever-presence of the rope, and he thinks that he’s going to have to deal with the scarring. “Almost…” Hyouga tilts his head and looks away, as if thinking, and Gen feels his mouth dropping _open_ because Hyouga actually _responded to him–_

_Why does he feel grateful for it?_

“Ah, we’re approaching two weeks.” Hyouga nods to himself. “Since you arrived in _my castle_ , Gen-kun.” The man says with nothing more than a taunting tone and Gen feels himself paling. He doesn’t let himself drop the smirk to his expression. He doesn’t _let himself_ stop smiling. If he lets himself, then he just might show off every thought he’s had over the past–

– was it really _two weeks –_

– two weeks where the only person to talk to was himself, himself, and the images of others that he drew up in his own mind.

And, apparently, an eavesdropping Hyouga.

“And, I suppose, that makes it 13 days since we spoke face-to-face.” There’s nothing but the sound of a smirk in that voice. “Did you miss having someone to talk with, Gen-kun?”

How he wants to say no.

“Ahhhh, I did~! So desperately~!” He chirps right back, forcing his eyes open as much as possible. He doesn’t want Hyouga to see it. His weakness. His exhaustion. The blurriness of his vision and the way that his head droops backwards the moment he tries to shift his neck. “I quite missed you, Hyouga-chan. I was _beside_ myself wondering if you would pay me a visit any time soon~!”

“Oh, I’m glad.” Hyouga seems to cock a smirk beneath his mask. “Hmm,” Hyouga steps _closer_ and Gen fights off the shiver that wants to crawl up his spine. “Have you been sleeping, Gen-kun?”

_So pretend care? Is that the route we’re going down?_

“Oh absolutely, Hyouga-chan! Like a baby~!” He feels himself sway, and tries to push it into a fluid and intentional seeming swing, even if it only draws the rope across his wrists with more harsh feeling of _tearing–_

_Don’t show weakness._

_Don’t show him anything that can be exploited._

“Really? I’m glad.” Hyouga steps closer and Gen really doesn’t have a choice but to cock his head backwards, to stare right up at the one who tied those ropes that are causing him so much discomfort. “I was worried you wouldn’t be able to sleep, since you’ve been sitting in that exact position for almost 14 days, but I’m glad to know I was proven wrong.” The masked man drops into a kneel, if only to get closer to Gen’s face. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to pay you a visit, Gen-kun, I’ve been quite busy.”

“Hmmm~ What’s got you so busy, Hyouga-chan? I can see you doing many things that involve killing innocent animals for nothing more than to feel a life end beneath your hands, torturing your own men for kicks, keeping a helpless mentalist captive in a hut… somewhere, for reasons that have yet to be made clear, and possibly fixing your make-up to correct the horrendous mistake made by your parents.”

He catches the man’s eyebrow twitching, and Hyouga breathes out a heavy sigh.

“If you must know, I’ve been busying myself with a variety of things. Many of which, Gen-kun,” The man’s eyelids slip open, showing off piercing and _cold_ blue irises that hover about 5 inches from Gen’s vision, getting hazier by the minute, “are, to be frank, _none of your business.”_

“Mmmm.” He feels his head lulling backwards, and he leans the rest of him back along with it to, at the very least, give _some_ impression of it being intentional. “How can you be _Frank_ if you’re Hyouga-chan?”

There’s a moment of pause – that or Gen simply thinks there’s a moment of pause because his senses are giving him a significant delay between what’s actually going on around him and what he _feels_ is going on around him – before his head _jerks_ left and there’s a sharp stinging in his cheek. He blinks. His eyes are still hazy, but he manages to catch the sight of Hyouga’s hand, still hovering in the air, as if he were preparing to slap someone. Or, perhaps, had just brought the back of his hand across someone’s face.

“Quite original, Hyouga-chan.” He mutters. His cheek is still stinging, and he’s sure it will bruise – Hyouga’s strength is _monstrous_ and Gen is sure that wasn’t even the harshest slap that the man could conjure – but the pretense of just a friendly conversation, a casual visit, has completely melted. Any semblance of a smile in the man’s face has slipped away, and Gen can’t help but think that he really should have measured his responses more carefully.

Though, how can he expected to calibrate when he’s running on exactly zero hours of sleep, the absolute minimum of food and water, and the barest of bare minimum amounts of human contact?

It’s getting harder and harder for him to see straight.

“You know, Gen-kun, I was content to leave you be. Perhaps engage in some idle chatter, if only to maintain your sanity just a _bit_ longer, however,” Hyouga climbs back to his feet, standing at full height to _tower_ above the mentalist who still can’t pull himself from the numbness of his sitting position (he honestly doesn’t think he could pull himself to his feet even if he wasn’t fastened to the pole in the center of the room. His legs are too numb and his eyes are too heavy and he really thinks he just wants to _sleep_ –) “Now I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Oh? I’m shivering in my boots, Hyouga-chan~” Gen makes a show of wiggling the toes of his completely bare feet. “Whatever could you have planned to do to little old me, tied up in this hut, and how would you think to justify it?”

“What makes you think any of it _needs_ a justification, Gen-kun?” He blinks himself to the realization that Hyouga’s prized spear, the weapon that he’s only ever seen the man lack once, isn’t in his grip. He has to take a moment to blink his eyes further open, to fight off the haze of his vision to double check – make sure – that his eyes aren’t just playing tricks on him and Hyouga really _did_ come into the hut empty-handed.

Some mentalist, taking so long to notice something so obvious.

“Well, I suppose you would have to justify it to yourself to make sure you didn’t feel guilt.” He sways backwards again, and this time he doesn’t manage to catch himself before his head is leaning way too far back for him to even meet Hyouga’s eyes and he feels the strain on his already aching arms and wrists that comes from them being stretched into supporting his weight. He can’t decide which he wants more, to be allowed to sleep or to be allowed to _move._ He knows, this time, that there’s no way to delude himself into thinking that Hyouga hadn’t noticed. There’s no way to delude himself into thinking that Hyouga doesn’t notice his eyelids blinking and blinking and blinking in some effort to keep himself awake. Not that he needs much effort. Everything, everywhere, _hurts_ more than enough to keep Gen trapped in the world of the conscious when he would so much rather slip away. “Not that you’re capable of such a feeling, Hyouga-chan~.”

“I do think,” Hyouga comes closer again, and Gen is, for once, grateful that his face doesn’t have to be anywhere near the man, “that you need a lesson in _keeping your mouth shut,_ Gen-kun.”

“Oh, do I, Hyouga-chan~?” He pulls himself back. It takes far more effort than he would like for it to take. “And how do you plan to _deliver_ such a lesson?”

“Hmm.” Hyouga leans closer, somehow, and Gen resists the urge to spit in his face. “Are you certain that you want to find out?”

Gen thinks he doesn’t.

But he cocks a taunting smirk anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

Gen thinks he’s grown tired of the blunt end of Hyouga’s blade.

Hyouga seems to have grown attached to knives. Gen honestly can’t tell if they’re made of stone or metal, but there isn’t a mark on him yet. He’s felt the dull side of one slide across his chest, chin, cheeks, over and over as Hyouga kept asking questions. Questions that Gen, now, doesn’t remember. He doesn’t think he bothered to remember any of them. His mind was too fuzzy when his answer never left his lips for him to accurately store any kind of important data.

Hyouga never touches him with the stone spear that Gen’s come to realize isn’t actually missing from the hut. Hyouga just leaves it by the door, and Gen wonders how it took what he thinks is four visits from the man who currently holds Gen’s life in his hands for him to actually notice it. Noticing things about people is what he does, after all.

The nearing 18 days of sleeplessness must be affecting him more than he thought.

_18 days, according to Hyouga._

If it’s truly been 18 days, _over two weeks,_ the only question he can ask himself is _where is Senkuu?_

_Has Senkuu even noticed that he’s gone?_

No. He must have. He _must have–_

“Gen-kun, I asked you a question.” Hyouga’s voice draws him back to the room, back into the hut where his wrists are still bound and his arms and legs still ache.

“Ah, did you, Hyouga-chan?” He blinks, eyes finding those of the towering man once again. “I do apologize, it seems you spoke too quietly.” He lets a tiny smile crawl its way up his lips. “Would you mind repeating yourself?”

“Hmm.” Hyouga comes closer, enough that he can thread his fingers through the base of the white half of Gen’s hair and the mentalist has to _bite_ down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from lashing out, screaming, _thrashing_ and shouting and _demanding to be let go–_ “I suppose I don’t have a choice, if I want an answer.”

He feels the dull end of Hyouga’s knife pressed against his cheekbone, and he fails to stop the shiver from running up his spine.

“Gen-kun,” Hyouga twirls the white half of Gen’s hair around his finger, and it makes the mentalist want to _pull away_ more than anything. “I have been asking you the same questions for days now, you know, and it’s wearing my patience thin. I expected better from you. It’s such a simple request, that you answer my questions, yet you seem incapable. The more I have to repeat myself, the angrier I’ll get. You best consider that, next time you ask me to do so.”

He doesn’t remember the last time a person _touched him._

_Was it that day?_

_Was it Senkuu?_

He misses Senkuu more than anything.

He doesn’t try to pull away.

“What is it that Senkuu-kun sees in you _?_ ” Hyouga’s lips curl into a smile beneath the mask. “What is it that Senkuu-kun sees in the most shallow man in the world? The man who would give up every luxury and comfort, who would sell out _hundreds_ for nothing more than a bottle of cola?”

_How does he know about that?_

“Have you considered _why_ he’s gotten so _close_ with you?”

_Because he loves me._

“I don’t think such things are any of _your_ business, Hyouga-chan.” He forces a sickly sweet smile to his face, and Hyouga _flips the blade–_

“Don’t interrupt me, Gen-kun.” Hyouga almost _hisses_ and Gen’s mouth clicks shut at the feel of the _blade_ – not the dull end. He doesn’t know why it’s suddenly so much scarier when it’s the blade that’s gliding, bloodlessly, across his cheek. “Have you, Gen Asagiri-kun, the mentalist, the great magician from the modern world, considered _why_ Senkuu-kun has allowed you so _close_ to him?”

“I know why.” He says this time. Measured and careful, and he thinks that Hyouga is generally being more lenient on his tone because of the bleariness of his eyes and the way his head keeps lulling into and out of Hyouga’s touch. The towering man’s hand never leaves his hair behind.

“Do you?” Hyouga tilts his head to the side. “What, pray tell, do _you_ think the reason is?”

“I don’t think such things are your business.” He mutters once again. He really doesn’t want to say it. Not to Hyouga. He has enough trouble letting himself be honest – vulnerable, _open_ – to Senkuu himself. He has enough trouble being intimate with the one he would call his beloved.

He’s not giving any of himself to Hyouga, if he can help it.

“Hm.” Hyouga tangles his fingers in the white of Gen’s hair with such gentle precision that Gen has to remind himself that Hyouga’s other hand is the one pressing the side of a blade into his cheek.

Then he feels _stinging_.

He feels harsh _stinging_ in his cheek and he sucks a tight inhale through his teeth.

The blade is cold. He thinks it’s made of stone – he doesn’t know how Hyouga _would_ get his hands on a metal blade – but that doesn’t make the long line that Hyouga slowly, carefully, almost _delicately_ , draws up his cheek sting any less.

“If you won’t provide an answer to even such a _simple_ question, let me pose a new one and we can _come back_ to that.” Hyouga comes closer, one hand gently dusting over Gen’s right cheek while the other draws lines up his left,

“Gen-kun, tell me something.”

“Mmm. You have to ask your question if you want me to answer it, Hyouga-chan.” He hears his words slurring the farther into the sentence he gets, and he thinks that he really, _really_ , just wants to sleep.

“Did I not already tell you _not to interrupt me?”_ Hyouga’s voice goes _cold_ and the knife is dragged _down._ Down Gen’s cheek. Hyouga skips his neck when he slices right through the high collar of his shirt to drag the knife across his collarbone with more aggression, _anger_ , than Gen has seen from him the entire time he’s been here.

Or perhaps he’s just been too out of it to catalogue the instances.

“Anyway, Gen-kun.” Hyouga doesn’t _stop_ trailing the knife along his collar bone, and Gen can see the deep crimson that’s leaking into the soft purple and light pale of his clothing. “Tell me, what about you is it that makes you such a _willing traitor?_ That makes you so _eager_ to betray our cause, despite owing your very _life_ to Tsukasa-kun and his empire?”

Gen doesn’t think there _is_ an answer to such a question. He certainly doesn’t think he could come up with one now. Like this. When his mind struggles to even process what he’s being asked, and certainly doesn’t have the energy to play mind games with the one currently drawing bright red lines across his chest.

“Is there something about you that makes you so willing, _eager_ , to betray? Something that makes it easier for you than it would be for most others? Is it something about you specifically, Gen-kun, that makes you into nothing but a _filthy traitor?_ ” Hyouga’s voice is far too close for comfort, and Hyouga only leans in _closer–_

_“_ I know that you’re nothing but a filthy traitor. They know that you’re nothing but a filthy traitor.” He catches the edges of Hyouga’s lips, twisting into a smile. “And your darling _Senkuu-kun_ knows that you’re nothing but a filthy traitor.”

Gen closes his eyes. He closes his eyes and tries to _ignore_ the feeling of Hyouga’s gloved fingers, gliding over his cheek with something almost resembling _care._

“Perhaps that’s why Senkuu-kun has decided to keep you so _close_ , hm?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gen thinks he really should have weighed the benefits of that particular statement before he let it past his lips. Hyouga’s eyes don’t shift, however, and the knife lifts itself from his skin. Gen thinks that, if he could move his hands, he would be rushing to cover the line that’s still leaking crimson – deeper than the crimson of Senkuu’s eyes, when he thinks about it, though the color still brings the thought of those beautiful, soft, irises to mind as he stares right down at it – but he can’t. He can’t move his hands and he can’t jump to cover it. Instead he simply stares at the lines of crimson and wonders how he allowed it to get there.

How Senkuu allowed it to get there.

_Where is Senkuu?_

_Does he even know that I’m gone?_

_Does he care?_

_Is he coming for me?_

Gen’s eyes feel fuzzy. His head hurts. He thinks his vision is swimming.

Where is he, again?

He’s tired.

Someone’s hand is still in his hair.

It must be Senkuu. No one else touches his hair like that.

He feels his eyes flutter closed. He wants to sleep. He thinks he can ignore the sticky wetness on his cheek and chest if it means he’ll get some sleep.

“Gen-kun.”

His head snaps up with the sharp _tug_ Hyouga gives his hair, and he’s back in the present.

“Hmmm, sorry, Hyouga-chan, I think I must have gotten bored.” Gen blinks and blinks and blinks again. He stares at Hyouga’s eyes, hard and cold and uncaring, for a solid moment before Hyouga _whirls_ around on his heel, lets go of his hair, and walks to the door. Gen just barely manages to catch the man closing a grip around the spear, waiting for him by the entrance, and Hyouga turns his head to look at the mentalist once again.

“You’re quite lucky, Gen-kun.” Hyouga says it with a sickly sweet tone that sends Gen shivering. “That you’ve gotten so little sleep. You know, if I were to do something _serious_ ,” Hyouga’s deep blue irises almost _glow_ beneath the light of the torch, “You might not live for your precious _Senkuu-kun_ to confirm my suspicions.”

“…Senkuu-chan… isn’t…” Gen mutters, and he doesn’t know why his head is suddenly pounding and his wrists _hurt_ and the light is too bright for his eyes. Everything is too bright for his eyes.

“Hm.” Hyouga’s eyes widen, just enough for Gen to notice through the pounding in his head and the way his entire body tilts back. “I wonder how long you can keep yourself convinced of that.”

Hyouga doesn’t say another word. He takes the spear from its place near the front of the hut and he _leaves_ and Gen thinks that he hates that he wants Hyouga to _come back._

He hates that the first thing that comes to his chest is that cloying _desperation._ Loneliness, is what he thinks it is, and he wonders if it’s even really _possible_ for someone to stay awake for 18 days straight. He thinks he must have passed out, at least once, since he arrived here. There’s no way he’s been awake for so long and can still think straight, and he doesn’t know why he’s caught up in this. It really doesn’t matter. What matters now is that he’s _lonely._ He’s _lonely_ and he’s _desperate_ and he thinks, he _really thinks_ , that he might just start counting the seconds until Hyouga comes back. He wonders if it will make the time go faster or slower.

He wonders if Senkuu is counting the seconds.

_Senkuu must have noticed, right?_

Do they think he betrayed them?

Do they think he ran off?

_Is that why they haven’t come for him yet?_

_Is that why he’s still trapped here?_

_Tied down. Numb from the same uncomfortable position. Completely unmoved. Completely exhausted and he just wants to_ **_sleep–_ **

He tugs on his wrists. He tugs and tugs and _tugs_ and _tugs and tugs and tugs and tugs and there’s red pouring down the ropes and his wrists_ ** _burn and burn and burn and burn and_** everything burns.

_Out out out out out out get these off of me get them_ **_off–_ **

His wrists are bleeding.

They’re most certainly going to scar.

_They’re going to scar._

He stops tugging.

“…Senkuu-chan…” His voice is too high-pitched and he thinks he feels his vision getting hazier. His eyes getting heavier. “…Senkuu-chan… Princess Peach…” He mutters below his breath, hoping with everything he can hope with, “…isn’t doing so well.” He laughs softly, under his breath, and shakes his head, trying to get the fuzz from his vision. But it only ends with the feeling of something sliding down his cheeks other than the sticky crimson, still oozing from Hyouga’s line.

Water.

He’s _crying._

He’s been reduced to crying. Tied up in the middle of some hut and _crying_ on some minuscule amount of sleep and just enough food and water to keep him alive.

What kind of mentalist is he? Letting himself cry in the middle of enemy territory?

What kind of mentalist is he? Letting himself _cry_ when the enemy has made it clear that they’re _listening to him–_

What kind of mentalist is he? Ending up _here._

“…Senkuu-chan.” He whispers, pressing his eyes closed.

“…I miss you.”

“Please… rescue me from my castle soon.”


	5. Chapter 5

Gen isn’t sure how long he’s alone for this time.

He thinks, even if he isn’t certain, that he’s managed to slip into unconsciousness for at least a few hours which, if nothing else, is reassuring. He thinks the lines that Hyouga drew across his skin have stopped bleeding, though he can’t really be certain when he can’t move his hands to check, and he’s sure that there’s still a bruise on his cheek from the first time Hyouga back-handed him.

Gen thinks that the hut is starting to get too cold.

Or perhaps too warm?

He misses Senkuu.

No matter what happened, what time of year or what the both of them wore, Senkuu was always the right temperature.

Whichever way the temperature here leans, however, Gen still finds himself shivering more often than not, and he thinks that might have something to do with the lack of sleep. But he can’t really know that for sure. He isn’t a doctor, after all. Diagnosing things like that is Senkuu’s job, not his, and he really thinks that he can’t wait for the scientist to let him slump into his shoulder. He can’t wait to feel those fingers running through his hair and feel the ropes come off of his wrists and hear Senkuu whisper sweet words right into his ear until he falls asleep curled into the scientist’s lap and–

_“What, did you really think I would come for you?”_

He ignores it, at first.

He squeezes his eyes shut and ignores it, at first.

_“C’mon, mentalist, are you really that naive?”_

“Shut up.” He whispers to himself, directing his head down, towards the floor, keeping eyes pressed closed and mouth twisting into a deep frown. “You’re not Senkuu-chan. Don’t try to convince me of something that’s not true. You’re not a good liar. That’s my job.”

_“You know exactly why I let you so close, Gen. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”_

“You’re not the real Senkuu-chan.” He whispers, shaking his head and keeping his eyes squeezed shut. “It doesn’t matter what you say. It’s not what Senkuu-chan thinks.” He doesn’t know why he bothers to say any of this out loud. Hyouga’s already made it clear that he’s _listening_ to what Gen says to himself. He’s already made it clear that he _knows_ what Gen says, does, all of it. Really it’s in his best interest to keep his mouth _shut–_

_“I really didn’t expect this from you. I thought you were smarter than that. You really bought that whole ruse? You really bought that I_ **_loved you?”_ **

“SHUT UP!”

It stops.

It stops, but Gen still feels himself _trembling_ under the weight of its words. He feels his teeth clench and his eyes squeeze _shut_ and he shakes his head. He shakes his head again and again and again, trying to snap himself _out of it._

“ _You’re Gen fucking Asagiri, get it together.”_ He mutters to himself. “Get it _together._ ” He squeezes his eyes shut again, trying to ignore the wetness that’s once again sliding out of them. Crying is useless. It accomplishes nothing but showing Hyouga just how _weak_ he really is.

_Pathetic._

“Get it _together. Senkuu-chan didn’t forget. He won’t forget. He’ll come.”_ He bites down on the inside of his cheek. “He hasn’t forgotten about me. He won’t forget about me. Senkuu-chan _doesn’t leave people behind–“_

He wonders why his chest tells him doubt.

He wonders when he started _doubting his own words–_

_“And your darling_ Senkuu-kun _knows that you’re nothing but a filthy traitor.”_

He shivers under the thought of that man’s words.

_“Perhaps that’s why Senkuu-kun has decided to keep you so_ close _, hm?”_

_No._

He starts shaking his head again. Starts tugging at his wrists and he wants it _off_ why won’t the damn ropes come _off_ they hurt so much just get them _off–_

“Senkuu-chan won’t leave me. He won’t. He won’t. He won’t. He won’t he won’t he won’t he won’t he won’t he won’t–“

He hears sobbing.

And it takes far too long for him to realize that it’s _his own._

It takes far too long for him to realize that the repetitive sounds of sobbing and choking and _crying_ and harsh breathing are all coming from his own lungs. And it takes him far too long to _bite down on his own lip_ with as much force as he can dedicate to such an action in some – likely futile – attempt to stifle the noise as much as possible. Hyouga made it clear, already, that he’s listening. He can hear Gen’s every word and noise and he doesn’t want the one keeping him here – the one with the knife that’s already drawn lines across his face and torso – to gain anything else to use against him.

He doesn’t want to have to play mind games when he can barely even think enough to keep himself from slipping away.

He wants to go home.

He misses Senkuu.

He wants to _go home._

_The Kingdom of Science is his home now._

Senkuu knows that, right?

Senkuu knows that he isn’t a traitor, right?

That isn’t the reason that Senkuu looks at him like he’s the light of the whole world and there’s no one more important. That isn’t the reason that Senkuu holds him close and whispers sweet words so close to his ear. That isn’t the reason Senkuu always gives and grips back, when Gen moves to tangle their fingers together.

That isn’t the reason that Senkuu whispers words of love to him, when they curl up in the observatory under a mountain of blankets.

That isn’t the reason that he’s the first person – other than _maybe_ his father – Senkuu has ever told “I love you.”

Right?


	6. Chapter 6

Gen thinks, he _really thinks_ , that he’s just woken up. He thinks that he’s actually managed to _sleep_ for some length of time, even if it feels as though it was barely enough to put a dent in the fuzziness of his vision. He really thinks that he’s just woken up and he _already_ feels fresh tears leaking from his eyes and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know _why_ and he doesn’t know how to make it _stop_ and–

“ _Stop it.”_ He whispers. Only to himself. Only for himself. “Stop it. Senkuu-chan will come. He _will._ ” He shuts his eyes again. Perhaps with the hope that blocking them off will do something about the tears as well, even if that hypothesis has already long been proven false. “He hasn’t forgotten about me. He _hasn’t._ He’s noticed I’m gone and he’s _coming_ and–“

He hears himself _choke._

_Pathetic._

His ears don’t even manage to pick up on the sound of footsteps.

“He hasn’t forgotten about me. He _hasn’t. He hasn’t and he won’t and–“_

“My,”

Gen _freezes._ He freezes and he sniffles, shutting his eyes again in some attempt to make the tears _go away_ and the heavy breathing _stop_ because it has to _stop_ it has to _stop, stop, stop, stop–_

“Are you still so fixated on that scientist?”

Gen wonders how he hadn’t noticed the footsteps before now. They’re more than loud. Obvious. Heavy and _present_ and Gen wants to flinch.

How long had he been alone this time?

Maybe Hyouga will have the _grace_ to tell him.

“Are you really still so focused on the one who’s so clearly _forgotten you?”_

_He hasn’t he hasn’t he hasn’t–_

“Or, perhaps _did_ forget you.” Hyouga tilts his head back, glancing to the ceiling with blank blue irises. “Seeing as he’s long _dead_ now, be sure to return the favor, Gen-kun. There’s no reason for you to run back to an ash-filled grave, after all.”

Gen is certain that he can hear a smile in Hyouga’s voice.

Gen is certain that he can hear a smile in that man’s voice.

Gen doesn’t think he can hear much of anything else.

Half of his mind is occupied with the thought of Senkuu. Senkuu forgetting him. Senkuu abandoning him. Senkuu leaving him here to rot, die, cry, scream, beg, plea, anything and everything else under the sun. Half of his mind is stuck on it. Trapped in it. Because Senkuu _wouldn’t_ forget. Senkuu doesn’t forget people. Senkuu doesn’t leave people behind. Senkuu _loves him, he does–_

The other half, the rest, of his mind is still struggling to get Hyouga’s words through processing. The rest of his thoughts are dedicated to parsing the meaning. The taunting isn’t really new. It’s been threaded into those _questions_ since the first time Hyouga slid the dull end of a blade across his cheek and asked what kind of person he was. The taunting is ever-present and infuriating and Gen wishes the man would just _shut up–_

And then his mind catches up to what’s going on around him.

_Dead?_

He thinks he must have heard wrong.

He thinks he _must_ have heard wrong. There’s no way. There’s no _way_ that Senkuu is _dead_ there’s no way on all of Earth that Senkuu is dead, there’s no way there’s no way there’s no way there’s no way–

_Ash-filled grave?_

There are tears in his eyes again, and he _yanks_ on his still-bound wrists. He _yanks_ them back and lets out a soft cry of _pain_ from the feeling of rope dragging across flesh and he clamps his teeth down on his lips and _bites._

He doesn’t want to cry in front of Hyouga.

_Senkuu is–_

He feels hands on his cheeks.

It takes him a whole second too long to suck in a harsh gasp of air, to jerk his head backwards and narrow his eyes to stare at Hyouga with as much intensity as he’s capable of shoving into his already beyond-fuzzy vision. He can’t get far from those gloved hands, what with his wrists still tied tight and his arms _aching_ more than they ever have in his life, but he makes the effort and he thinks, really, that’s what matters.

He expects another backhand. Maybe Hyouga will pull the knife out again to start drawing brand new lines across his face and torso and–

Those gloved hands are on his face again.

He tries to pull away again, but there’s nowhere left for him to go. Not without dragging his wrists – which he’s more than certain are already bleeding – across harsh rope and likely triggering even more of those _damn tears–_

Hyouga’s thumbs run under his eyes.

Gen feels his eyes widen as he stares. He stares right at Hyouga and watches as the man wipes his tears away with _gentle_ care and Gen doesn’t know what to think–

Gen doesn’t know what to _say._

_Why is Hyouga–_

“Aren’t I just so kind, Gen-kun?” The smile in Hyouga’s voice, the look in his eyes, is suddenly soft. _So soft._ Gen doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything even close to this level of _softness_ in Hyouga’s eyes. Gen never thought he would see something so gentle and kind in Hyouga’s expression. He didn’t think the man was capable of it. “This should really help you come to accept yourself, no? Accept the real reason _Senkuu-kun_ allowed you so close. The real reason you turned your back to those you owed your life to.” Hyouga leans _closer_ , lips resting mere centimeters from Gen’s ears. “If you do well today, Gen-kun, perhaps I can even find it in my heart to _forgive you._ ” One of the gloved hands moves to caress his cheek, and Gen thinks that it _should_ send him shivering. He thinks that the feel of Hyouga’s soft contact should _terrify him._

But it _doesn’t._

“Perhaps, Gen-kun, if you manage to answer my questions, I can find it in my heart to _allow you into my ranks.”_ Hyouga cups his chin, pulling back enough for those soft blue irises to meet Gen’s gray. “There’s no one for you to return to. No Kingdom of Science left for you to betray. Doesn’t that sound nice, Gen-kun? Having somewhere to belong once again?”

_It does._

He closes his eyes and _grits his teeth_ and–

“…Senkuu… Senkuu-chan is really..?”

“Dead.” Hyouga answers without skipping a beat, and Gen feels his heart do exactly that. He thinks it skips ten beats, more like, and his throat is starting to _close up_ and– “Long dead.” Hyouga nods to himself. “And you, Gen-kun, are still here.” Hyouga’s hands trace the petrification mark first, then the line that he drew himself. The gloves follow it across Gen’s face, down, all the way across his collar bone and he thinks he’s about to _shiver_ –

“So, mentalist,” Hyouga almost _purrs_ , “How about you answer my questions now?”

Gen doesn’t know why his vision is suddenly bobbing up and down.

Why Hyouga’s eyes turn from _soft_ to _satisfied._

“Alright then, Gen-kun, let’s get started, hm?” The smile beneath Hyouga’s mask curls up, again, into something far more sinister, and Gen lets his eyes fall closed.

Is there a point to fighting back, anymore?

Will Hyouga let him sleep if he just says what he wants?

God he’s so _tired._

“What is is that Senkuu-kun _saw_ in you, Gen-kun?”

“Nothing.” Gen blinks his eyes open, letting a soft smile grace his lips. “He saw” – _why is he using the past tense –_ “nothing in me. He only let me so close because he figured I would betray the Kingdom of Science, so he wanted to be able to keep an eye on me.” He blinks his eyes open long enough to catch the nod that Hyouga gives him. To make sure that Hyouga is satisfied with that answer.

“And then, Gen-kun,” Hyouga’s fingers ghost over his cheeks once again. “What is it about you that makes you such a willing traitor?”

“I am the most selfish man in the world, after all.” He smiles and chokes back his disgust and the nausea that’s been resting in the pit of his stomach for almost 20 days (he thinks? He really ought to ask or needle it out of Hyouga, knowing how long he’s been gone – _does it even matter? If Senkuu is dead then does it matter –_ is crucial, he thinks. He doesn’t know what it’s crucial for. He doesn’t _know_ what it’s crucial _for_ but it’s _crucial_ for _something_ –). He blinks his eyes open and forces himself to give Hyouga his best smile. “I am a shallow opportunist, Hyouga-chan. You should know. I’m only ever out for myself.” He closes his eyes. “Senkuu-chan knew” – **_why is he using the past tense_** – “that. He did what he had to do to get the shallow opportunist on his side.”

“Were you right, to betray us, _me_ , Gen-kun?”

“No.” Gen shakes his head. “Evidently, you’re far stronger than Senkuu-chan ever was.”

_Why can’t he stop using the past tense._

“So, Gen-kun.” The feeling of gloves – he thinks he would like to know what those gloves are made of – leaves his cheeks and Hyouga’s eyes, somehow, become less harsh. Almost _welcoming._ “Would you like to _come back?_ ”

He pauses.

  
This time, for this question, he pauses.

He doesn’t think that his cost-benefit analysis is really going to be helpful. He’s running on the bare minimum of _everything_ and he’s in more pain than he thinks he’s ever experienced in his _life_ (the incident with Magma might be a close second, he thinks, but it doesn’t top this) and his thoughts are already beyond useless to him, but he takes a pause before he answers this question. He takes a pause and weighs the options. Considers the possibilities.

If Senkuu is dead,

Is there any reason to say no?

He finds himself thinking of the others. The whole Kingdom of Science. And, if Senkuu is dead, it won’t be long until all of them either follow or end up beneath Tsukasa’s foot.

_Is there any reason to say no?_

He just wants to _sleep_.

“…certainly, Hyouga-chan.” He whispers, head lulling to the side. “Without the wonderful leadership of Senkuu-chan” – _without without without –_ “that Kingdom is worthless.”

He watches through his fuzzy vision as Hyouga reaches for the knife at his side. The knife that’s already drawn lines up his cheek and across his torso and his eyes go wide and he wonders if he said the wrong thing. If he gave the wrong answer. He’s about to throw his mouth open, correct himself, adjust his words and _hope_ for the best and–

The knife finds the rope around his wrists.

He stares. He stares as Hyouga cuts him free. As his wrists fall, hands hit the ground in front of him, fingers curl and uncurl and curl again as he tries to get some semblance of feeling back into them.

He lifts his hands.

He doesn’t look at his wrists. He pulls the bloodstained sleeves of his light purple haori up, over what his eyes have already managed to catch of the utterly _nasty_ marks that cover them. He doesn’t want to look at them yet.

He stares at his hands instead.

He stares at the dried crimson that covers his fingers. He stares at how pale they are and he curls them again. Uncurls them again. As if he can’t believe that his hands are really free.

Honestly he doesn’t think he _can_ believe it.

His eyes shift up, to stare into the deep blue of Hyouga’s, for a long second before he looks at his hands again.

“...I’m tired, Hyouga-chan.” He whispers, blinking his eyes open in some effort to keep himself awake. Now that he could lie down, what was really stopping him? “…is it quite alright if I take a bit of time to rest?”

“Of course, Gen-kun.” Hyouga has a tone that’s far too soft for what Gen knows of this man. But right now, he really can’t bring himself to care. “I really didn’t want to have to keep you awake for so long.” Hyouga leans closer, and he feels the man’s gloved hands come to rest over his eyes, guide him down to the ground, and he doesn’t know why he lets him. Perhaps it’s a method of placating him.

He thinks that’s how he’s going to justify his inability to fight back.

“I’m sorry for my _methods_ , Gen-kun, I really couldn’t think of a way to get you to listen to me, otherwise. You needed the lesson. And you’ll be better for it.” Hyouga’s voice is back to that softness as Gen’s head rests on the ground. He really can’t tell if there’s some kind of tatami mat or if he’s simply resting in the dirt, but he really doesn’t care. He doesn’t bother to respond. Doesn’t bother to say a word. And he’s not sure that he believes a single thing that Hyouga’s said, but he’s _lying down_ and his wrists are _free_ (and _God_ do they _sting–_ ) and his eyes flutter closed.

He loses Hyouga’s words somewhere in there, and he hopes that Hyouga won’t mind if he drifts off.

He falls asleep to the sound of Hyouga’s voice.


	7. Chapter 7

He blinks his eyes open and, somehow, he thinks that his head is pounding even more than it was before he fell asleep. He blinks his eyes open and thinks that, somehow, his vision is even fuzzier than it was before and he feels even _worse_ than he did before. How is it even possible for him to feel _worse–_

_“…Senkuu… Senkuu-chan is really..?”_

He blinks – tries to blink – the fuzz from his vision, but it really doesn’t work in the slightest and he only ends up sending a barrage of stars through his vision and having to squeeze his eyes closed and shift his head to the side to stop himself from emptying what little contents of his stomach there even are.

_“Dead. Long dead.”_

How long was he asleep?

He thinks it’s possible to wake up like this after sleeping for long enough, especially if it’s been a long time since you last slipped into unconsciousness. But he doesn’t think it’s supposed to feel this terrible. He doesn’t think he’s supposed to feel this strange mix of far too warm beneath his hoari and way too cold in what he’s wearing. He doesn’t think his head is meant to feel as though someone is trying to break free from his skull. He doesn’t think his entire body is supposed to _ache_ like this. He doesn’t think the sound of his breathing is supposed to be so _haggard–_

“Get up.”

He thinks he’s hearing things again, at first. So he doesn’t move. He blinks his eyes open again and keeps himself still.

“Gen-kun,” The voice comes back after what Gen thinks must have been at least a minute. Is Hyouga learning patience, perhaps? “You heard me, correct? If you are to _join me_ then you know that you must _take my orders_ , correct?”

He thinks he feels his mouth dropping open, but no words come through. Nothing but a heavy breath and what sounds like a soft whimper that just makes his head _pound_ and _pound_ and–

“Gen-kun,” Hyouga’s voice is _closer_ , and Gen can barely make out the man’s face. “ _Get up._ ”

Gen waits, just a second, to feel out the situation. Figure out if Hyouga is going to ask something more of him, demand he get up a specific way or hold out his wrists to tie them back around the pole or demand that he say something or answer another damn _question–_

No further instruction comes.

He shifts his hands.

Hyouga watches with cold, almost calculating, eyes as he fumbles, struggles, pushing himself up into a sitting position that takes far, _far_ , too long to get right. He keeps his hands on the ground behind him, propping him up. He sways, even with the support, and his head bobs up and down, entirely out of his control no matter how much he wills for his neck to stay stationary. He blinks again, still trying to get at least some level of clarity into his vision, and stares to where he _thinks_ he can see the fuzz Hyouga’s outline.

“ _Gen-kun._ ” Hyouga’s voice is _closer_ and Gen’s head rolls back. “ _Don’t make me repeat myself.”_

He climbs to his feet.

Well, he tries to climb to his feet.

His head throbs and every moment that drags his head vertically sends waves of dizziness over him. The room spins so much that he almost manages to miss the color draining from his vision and the whole room going black and white before he’s on his feet. He doesn’t know _how_ he’s on his feet, but he is, and he tucks his hands into the sleeves of his haori as he normally does.

He blinks.

Suddenly he’s looking at the floor, and he can feel a hand – calloused and rough and _strong_ – gripping the back of his shirt. Holding him up. Had he been falling? Had Hyouga caught him? His vision is still swimming.

“How unfortunate,” Hyouga’s voice is low enough to be a purr. “Your body can’t keep up with your mind, it seems, nor can it keep up with what I ask of you.” He lets his eyes flutter closed as Hyouga delivers a short tug to the back of his shirt. “I can’t say I’m happy with this, Gen-kun. I make a point not to damage my followers, _my possessions_ , beyond what I intend for them.” The man’s mask comes closer. It’s all that Gen can really make out when he pulls his lids open once again. “But since you’ve done _so well_ with answering my questions, making the _right choice_ , I suppose I have a bit of spare time to put you back together. Hm?”

His head falls back again. Weak and limp and exhausted as he stares up at the masked man with eyes that can barely even make out the color of those harsh blue irises. He stares and wonders, for a long moment, if Senkuu will be what he sees if he ends up succumbing to this.

He wonders, for less than a second, why Hyouga hasn’t killed him.

But _does it really matter?_

He blinks. He blinks and tries to stare up at the ceiling. He can’t really make out anything about it, and he can only wonder what the _point_ of it all is.

If Senkuu is dead,

If Hyouga _killed him_ ,

_Then why is Gen still alive?_

_What’s the point?_

_Why fight back? Why try to stay awake? Why stay present? Why not just let himself fall into whatever it was that was making his head pound and sweat bead on his skin?_

_Why not just let himself fall into a deep sleep and never wake up_?

Hyouga pulls on the back of his shirt again.

  
“Gen-kun, you should _listen_ when one speaks to you.”

_“I missed you today.”_

He blinks.

He thinks his eyes catch a glimpse of crimson, just for a second, before it _melts_ right under his gaze.

_“Y’know, my lab feels so lonely without you, gorgeous.”_

He jerks his head left, right, again and again and again. Trying to shake it off. Trying to chase the voice away because it _isn’t real._ He _knows_ it isn’t real, there’s no way it’s real, Senkuu’s _dead–_

“Gen-kun.” Hyouga pulls on his shirt again, and the mentalist – he thinks he really ought to stop calling himself that – jerks his head up to meet Hyouga’s eyes the best he can.

“Hmmmmm? Ye–ah, Hyouga-chan?” The sound of his own voice makes him cringe, almost flinch, from just how slurred, _off_ , it sounds.

He thinks, if his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him, that a frown is forming under Hyouga’s mask.

Is he angry?

  
Gen thinks he feels himself pale.

_Did he do something wrong? Something to make him angry?_

_Is Hyouga going to tie him down again?_

_Is Hyouga going to leave him here again?_

He doesn’t know if he could take that.

“I–m so-sorr–y, Hyouga–chan.” He mumbles through the slurring of his voice and the way his throat _aches._ “D-Didn’t mean t–o ig–nore.” He blinks again. “…ti–red.”

“Hmm, are you?” Hyouga’s lips seem to curl back upwards, and Gen closes his eyes in some semblance of relief. He isn’t mad. Hyouga isn’t mad. He likely isn’t going to tie Gen up again and leave him for days with little more than the bare minimum to cry and plea for a _dead man_ to come save him–

He has to keep reminding himself that Senkuu is _dead._

_What’s the point, then?_

_Why is he here, if Senkuu is dead?_

He blinks, and he’s being guided back to the floor. He wonders why Hyouga forced him up in the first place, if he was going to end up guiding him back to the ground. Letting him lie back down. He wonders what the point of such an ordeal was. He wonders why he’s even still alive.

  
He wonders what the _damn point_ is–

His eyes fall closed. Closed because he just _can’t_ keep them open. Because his eyelids are _heavy_ and his head _pounds_ and he feels fingers threading their way through his hair. He feels someone running their hand through the base of the white half of his hair, for a moment, before the hand follows the strand that’s found a home on the floor of the hut. He closes his eyes and leans into the feeling of someone carding a hand through the black half of his hair, which comes moments later, and Gen _wishes_ it were Senkuu.

He doesn’t think he can pretend that it’s Senkuu.

He thinks he can let himself know that it’s Hyouga.

He thinks he can live with himself, knowing he’s leaned into Hyouga’s touch.

There’s no point to fighting it off anyway, is there?

Senkuu is _dead._

_“Can I play with your hair later, mentalist?”_

He drifts away to the feeling of Hyouga’s gloved fingers running through his hair, the same way Senkuu’s once did.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. Things be crazy right now.

Gen doesn’t know how long the illness has plagued him, but he knows that the time passes in a long haze.

He thinks he spends most of his time asleep. Perhaps the illness is his body’s way of tricking his mind into resting. He thinks it’s a likely theory, though Senkuu would likely shoot it down the moment it was suggested, were he still alive.

Gen doesn’t know why he keeps reminding himself of that.

_Senkuu is dead._

_Hyouga killed him._

The thought comes to mind far more than he would like.

He thinks that it shouldn’t matter anyway, when he remembers those _questions_ that Hyouga kept – _keeps –_ asking. He remembers what Hyouga kept saying. Why Senkuu kept him close. That must be the reason, he thinks. And, if Hyouga did kill him, had Senkuu been coming for him? Why would Senkuu have been coming for him, anyway? Was he afraid that Gen would give up the sensitive information that he had been entrusted with? Was he scared that Hyouga would turn Gen right over to Tsukasa and collect the information on Taiju and Yuzuriha’s true alliance?

Not that it matters.

Senkuu is dead anyways.

Even if Senkuu were alive, Gen’s only proved him right. He gave in. Accepted Hyouga’s offer. He _gave in_ and it _doesn’t_ matter because Senkuu is _dead_ but it feels like it _should–_

He ends up crying, most nights.

He can never really tell if Hyouga is there. Sometimes the man makes it obvious with a whispered taunt or a hand in his hair, but when there’s no words and no contact, Gen can never tell if he’s seeing the outline of a man or if his far-too-fuzzy eyes are playing tricks on him. He always hopes it’s the latter. He always wishes it were the former, but hopes it’s the latter. He really doesn’t know how the gap in thoughts is possible, but he doesn’t really care.

He ends up crying, more often than not, and – even when he _is there_ , beyond a shadow of a doubt – Hyouga never responds to it.

Gen doesn’t think he would care if he did.

Before he cared if Hyouga saw his weakness. Before he forced himself not to give the man anything to exploit.

Now he just thinks _does it matter?_

Even sleep isn’t an escape.

Even his sleep is plagued by constant thoughts of bright crimson eyes, soft words whispered late at night between himself and a scientist who so few have ever seen this side of, by the thought that _this is the only way he’ll ever be able to see his Senkuu, ever again._ By the thought that this Senkuu, the Senkuu who had given him more smiles and bright red cheeks and soft feelings of comfort than Gen ever thought he would get in his _life_ , wasn’t real. That Senkuu’s whispered words of _love –_

_“It’s called a hug, mentalist. Ever heard of it?”_

– were nothing more than another damn _lie –_

“ _It’s something I only give to the people I care about most and don’t presently feel like messing with.”_

– and he has to wonder how he ever _fell for it._

He wonders why he ever thought it was worth it, to betray those who he truly did owe his life for a measly bottle of cola.

He wonders why he ever bothered trying to resist Hyouga’s words when all they sound to him now is _right._

_“Well, I don’t really know–“_

Now, when Gen starts to hear Senkuu’s voice, he blocks it out.

He doesn’t respond to it. He shuts his eyes and pretends it isn’t there and grits his teeth and clenches his fists and he thinks those are the nights – if it even is during the night – where he tosses and turns and can’t get comfortable, even in his sleep. Those are the nights where he wakes up with hair ruffled beyond repair, eyes wet and hazy, and pounding in his head only getting _worse._

Those are the days where he repeats it to himself.

“Senkuu-chan saw _nothing_ in me.”

He still uses the past tense.

“He did what he had to do to get the _shallow opportunist_ on his side.”

His own voice is starting to sound foreign, and he wonders if it’s from the continued, ever-present slurring of his words or the pounding in his head. It’s one of the two, he’s sure, and he thinks it might have something to do with the words.

He believes them now.

He knows that he believes them now.

  
He believes them now, but he still thinks that he _doesn’t want to._

He shakes it off. He shakes off the thought of not wanting to because that _doesn’t matter._ Not wanting something to be true doesn’t make it any less true. Gen knows that. Gen knows that better than anyone in the world.

“ _Senkuu-chan is dead._ ” He chokes the words out. “And he _didn’t love me, anyway._ ”

“He _didn’t love me.”_

He squeezes his eyes shut when he feels the tears filling them.

“He’s dead. And he didn’t love me.”

_No matter how much I loved him._


End file.
